Every school has its unique quirks about it, and Westlake High School is no exception. We may not have a weird lunch lady or a secret hangout spot, but we definitely have some noticeable features. Whether you graduated 20 years ago or just started your freshman year, feel free to reminisce and laugh about these 10 signs you went to Westlake High.
Those extra five minutes to sleep in on Wednesday mornings (or an entire hour and a half if you didn’t have a first period) were an absolute blessing. And then that one hour between first and second periods was a lifesaver if you forgot to finish your math homework. It was also a perfect opportunity for breakfast runs with your friends or even a coffee date with that special guy or girl. The only downside: rushing to score a spot in the student lot when you got back.
Ah, Westlake Village. Characterized by new money, nothing to do on the weekends, and 16-year olds with really nice/expensive cars. I’m talking Mercedes, Range Rovers, BMW’s, Mustangs…you name it. Now, don’t get me wrong, many of these kids are actually pretty humble, but the fact that parents here can afford to buy their kids these kinds of cars is pretty unique to Westlake Village.
We all learned from experience to never park on the top level of the lot, unless you wanted to sit in after-school traffic for 45 minutes. It was everyone’s top priority to score a spot on the bottom level, no matter how far away of a walk it was in the morning. You thanked yourself later when you were sitting down for lunch while all the juniors were struggling to pull out of their parking spaces.
The Class of 2017 will relate to this one the most, as we were just freshmen when all of these scandals arose one after the other. You guys remember which ones I’m talking about, so I won’t go into too much detail. But getting asked about the exact details of those scandals as 14-year olds at a brand new school was downright embarrassing and uncomfortable to say the least.
Throughout your four years at Westlake, you probably had your parents call you out at some point. Whether for a doctor’s appointment or because you forgot to study for that test next period. You had to walk across the bridge or up the hill to the student lot and hand that infamous yellow slip to whichever WHS staff member was supervising the exit. However, it may not have been that easy if you had to walk past that mean golf cart lady whose name no one knows. Even if you had a legitimate reason to leave school early, those dagger eyes made you reconsider.
Let’s say you had just devoured a pizookie at BJ’s with your best friends after the football game and you were feeling pretty crappy and bloated. Never fear! The third story stairs of Building 4 are here! On Monday, all you had to do was simply walk up the stairs from the quad to the second story, then the stairs up to the third story, and that alone was a workout in and of itself! It’s a wonder how we did that for four years.
Building 1, Building 2, Building 3, Building 4…Building 6 (Bungalows)? What about the missing Building 5? Nobody knows, and nobody really cares to ask, but the reason is still a mystery.
Even if you didn’t end up having Mr. Culpepper as your Gov teacher senior year, he probably still treated and loved you like his own child. Even AP kids who had Mr. Lynch, like myself, somehow ended up having Mr Culpepper as a dad-like figure. He’s just the nicest guy ever, and you can always count on him to make your day every time you walk by his classroom.
There HAS to be some kind of science behind this, but it’s a fact that the temperature drops 10° when you walk across the bridge to school in the mornings, or down the hill from the student lot. It always sucked so much when you were already freezing as you got out of the car in the dead of winter only to have the temperature drop even more in a matter of steps. Someone explain!
Nothing was worse than sitting in the blazing heat and being forced to stand up and sit down a million times on certain cues until all 500-600 students in your class could do it simultaneously. And almost as worse as that: filing in at the beginning of each practice and being forced to just stand there until everyone else got to their seats. The real ceremony was ten times worse for girls because most of us were wearing heels. YUCK. And there was always that one guy (or group of guys) who didn’t sit down on the “s” of “seated” even when the ASG president said it super slowly.
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